Anything
by Gumnut
Summary: He would do anything.


Anything  
By Gumnut  
9 Jun 2005

The sea breeze was strong and it caught Michael's hair, brushing the messy curls against Kitt's shell in a never-ending pattern of gentle caress. The AI tracked each strand as the wind caught them, idly projecting trajectory and distance, estimating which lock would reach his skin and which would not. Most did. Michael hadn't had the chance to visit the barber for quite a while despite today's event. The case schedule had been particularly hard, topped with a short stay in hospital due to a single bullet Kitt had been unable to stop. Haircuts had been at the bottom of the list again. Consequently his curls had gotten a little more out of control than usual.

Kitt was almost admonishing himself. His duty was to care for his driver, and though a haircut was a minor thing, considering today, he should have made time for Michael. As it was, they'd barely made it with the tux. That single item had required a madcap dash for suit hire early this morning. Kitt had taken care of the present, searching the web and ordering online. Michael's heart hadn't been in it.

Well, it had, just a little hurting.

Kitt would never admit to understanding it all, but he found he did understand a great deal of it. Literature explained it the clearest, though after working with Michael for thirteen years and watching his driver drop in and out of relationships almost as fast as Kitt burned through fuel….he'd learnt a few things along the way.

A particularly strong gust flattened brown curls all over his fender.

"Michael, should you really be sitting on the wet sand in that suit?"

He didn't get an answer.

Kitt sighed.

Today was a wedding day. Today Bonnie married the love of her life.

The ceremony had been beautiful. She'd held it outside so all her family could attend. Things had been a little different from the last wedding Kitt had attended, however, he made sure of it. Could an AI be paranoid? Could he scan the miles surrounding them any more thoroughly than he had today? He doubted it.

Of course, nothing had happened. Every flower had been perfectly arranged. Devon had looked splendid in his suit, walking the bride down the aisle. Only Devon could make the need to use a walking stick an improvement in his image. The man was getting older, but his determination to be himself and his own kind of elegant was still there. And nothing was stopping him from walking Bonnie down the aisle.

Michael had stood at the back of the gathering. Kitt had the impression that he would have rather not have been there at all. He knew Michael wished Bonnie the best, knew he'd do anything for her, and in a way he had.

"Michael, please, you'll catch your death of cold."

"I'm fine, Kitt."

Well, at least it was an answer.

They'd only stayed long enough at the ceremony to wish the bride and groom the best and then Michael had literally jumped into the Trans Am and fled.

He was upset. And Kitt was pretty sure he knew why.

"She is happy, Michael."

No answer.

"Michael?"

"I know, Kitt."

"You did what you thought was right."

Muffled sound.

"Michael?"

"Kitt, will you please drop it."

He didn't want to. He hated it when Michael was upset. He wanted to help, to fix whatever was causing the problem. But in this case, there was no immediate solution. Was there?

"She loves you, you know."

Another muffled sound.

"Michael?"

"Kitt, damnit!" Anger.

"She does."

The body that had been leaning against his left front wheel suddenly tipped forward as Michael dropped his head into his hands. For a moment, Kitt thought he'd gone too far and Michael would leap up and storm off. But no, he simply sat there his head in his hands.

"Michael?"

"For Christ's sake, Kitt, what do you want from me?!"

The AI didn't answer immediately, a little confused to the answer of that question himself. Then, "I'm worried about you."

Michael sighed. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You're sitting on wet sand in an expensive tuxedo, on an empty beach, feeling sorry for yourself."

His driver glared at him. "So what."

"You have a reception to go to, preferably not caked in sand."

"I'm not going."

"You can't not go, Michael, Bonnie is depending on you."

Yet another muffled sound as Michael turned away.

"What would you know about it?"

The words stung and Kitt found himself getting angry. "More than you realise, Michael. You are not the only thinking, feeling being on this beach."

Words can be as sharp as swords.

-o-o-o-

Michael flinched. Kitt was right, he was wrong. "Sorry, buddy." His voice was quiet, but he knew Kitt would hear him. He always did.

This time it was Kitt who didn't answer. Michael sighed.

Today had just been hard.

He guessed it was inevitable. Beautiful, smart women don't tend to stay single all their lives. The fact Bonnie hadn't found someone sooner, he suspected was due to him. She had been waiting and he'd never made the move.

Well, he had, early on, but then she hadn't known him, hadn't taken him seriously, and to be honest, he hadn't been that serious himself.

He hadn't known the fate he was playing with.

It took Stevie to educate him on that part.

She still haunted him. Her blood on his hands, her last breaths, the love in her eyes as she died in his arms. He clenched his eyes shut. It still hurt. It always would.

He'd once asked Devon if he was ever allowed to fall in love. There hadn't been an answer at the time, but he knew it now.

And the answer was no.

After Stevie….after Stevie, there had been no one. He let no one near him, no one close enough to get hurt.

But Bonnie had waited.

He had seen it in her eyes. Each Foundation function he was forced to attend, they naturally went together, but nothing ever happened. There were times where he'd come home from a particularly bad case, either Kitt or him hurt. She'd be there. She was always there. With the right tools, with the right words.

But he never made the move. He couldn't.

Blood on his hands.

Thirteen years.

There were more people out there who cursed the name 'Michael Knight' than ever before. If he was one thing, it was good at his job. The lone man in his black car was a legend on the streets. He'd even had informants whispering rumours to him about the modern day lone ranger. He and Kitt had had fun with the concept from time to time.

But truthfully…

He never made the move.

Because he simply couldn't risk losing her.

And today he had lost her anyway.

He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.

But at least she was alive.

"Kitt, I'm sorry, okay?"

Still no answer.

"C'mon, Kitt, please, I don't want to argue with you." You're all I have left. "Please not today."

"Very well."

"I'm sorry, buddy, I'm just…"

"I know, Michael."

"Do you? Do you really?"

"Michael, I may be artificial, but I'm still intelligent. I've watched you push her away for the past nine years, don't you think I know why?"

Michael blinked slowly. "I guess…I…hell, I don't know."

"Michael." Kitt's tone was gentle. "You did what you thought was right."

"Right? Right for who? She's happy. I love the fact that she is happy. Hell, I'd do anything for her to be happy-"

Kitt interrupted him. "And that is exactly what you did, Michael. You sacrificed your happiness for what you saw as hers."

He blinked, his throat suddenly tight. "I-" He'd never quite thought of it that way.

"It will be all right, Michael."

He didn't answer. Kitt was speaking to him like he had on many other occasions; the only difference this time being the fact that Michael wasn't bleeding everywhere.

"You are not alone."

No, he wasn't.

Thirteen years.

And he hadn't been alone for a second of it.

Why was he feeling sorry for himself?

His voice was quiet. "What would I do without you?"

"Probably get yourself killed."

Michael had to smile. "Thankyou for your confidence."

"You're welcome." There was the soft purr of moving parts as suddenly one of Kitt's SPM fins slowly edged out of its slot in the black fender. Michael stared at it for a moment, before reaching out a hand and gently touching the offered fin. Kitt continued quietly. "But hopefully we will never have to find out."

The MBS was as soft under his fingers as it had always been. "Thanks, buddy."

"Now get off your wet butt, we have a reception to attend. And, by the way, if anyone asks, you have a hair appointment tomorrow."

Michael stumbled to his feet. "What?"

"Trust me on this one, Michael."

He brushed the sand from his pants, idly wondering when the order giving part of this partnership had switched sides.

For a moment he stood staring at his partner, the sleek black form of the modified Trans Am glistening in the late afternoon sun. Today he had lost Bonnie, in a way, maybe. She would still be there for him, for Kitt, but things would be different. He had made the choice and now he had to live with it. He would do anything for her happiness.

Kitt's scanner flickered at him questioningly, obviously wondering why he was standing there like a stunned pigeon.

He would do anything for Bonnie's happiness.

But in that she wasn't alone.

-o-o-o-  
FIN.


End file.
